Jess Lebow: The Colors of Magic Anthology

Eskander curled into a ball and blubbered.

Suddenly she hated him and all the Ilmieras, as if they themselves had demanded that she defile herself with their destruction. Galvanized by a rage which in no way diminished her anguish, she pounced on him.

Later that night, when she glimpsed herself in Sabul's mirror, she realized she'd changed again. Her lucent eyes had taken on a flat, metallic cast that transformed her soft gaze into the predatory stare of a falcon.

Over the course of the next week, the Ilmieras became increasingly wary. Those who dared venture from their homes at night invariably did so in the company of bodyguards or well-armed friends, or, in the case of one fellow, in disguise.

Only slightly inconvenienced by such measures, Kotara continued her gory work, still revolted by it, yet periodically seized by the fury that had come upon her when she slew Eskander. Her appearance continued to alter in subtle respects. Her features sharpened, while the sheen of her feathers dulled. Perhaps she, a creature of the endless heavens, had tarried near the earth too long, and its gross solidity was somehow coarsening the finer stuff of her being.

By day she attempted to purge herself in the sky, to revitalize herself by rising up and up, through the clouds and into the star-dappled blackness beyond. But no matter how high she flew, she couldn't escape the miasma of uncleanness, of savagery and hate, that seemed to cling to her.

When Kotara slipped through the window, Sabul was sitting and staring into space. His brown hair was a tangle of greasy spikes, and his chin remained unshaven. His elaborate white robes were wrinkled and smelled of the unwashed body inside them.

"Master?" the angel said.

The young wizard shifted heavily around to face her. "Did you get Otori?" he asked.

"With some difficulty, " she said. "He set a trap of sorts, with himself as bait. When I flew down at him, a mage befuddled me with an illusion, and half a dozen hired bravos sprang out at me. I had to kill them all, lest one report seeing an angel. " Her sore eyes pulsed, but no tears slid down her cheeks. Perhaps she'd cried them all already.

Sabul blinked. "That's… " he gestured vaguely. "Well, I suppose that if the mercenaries chose to serve the Ilmieras, they share in the guilt of the Ilmieras. "

Kotara glared at him. Her fingers twitched. "Do you truly believe that?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. But in any case, it's over. No use fretting about it now. "

"It's likely to happen again. I've already slain Multam and his chief companions. Now we're down to slaughtering youths who roamed the city with him only rarely and in all likelihood played no part in Axdan's death. It's time you stopped deluding yourself that this enterprise is still a quest for justice and call it what it is-a war of extermination. And every war claims innocent lives. "

"Deem it a war if you like. Whatever it is, I don't have to justify it to you. " He turned away.

As she paced around his stool to confront him anew, she glimpsed herself in the scrying mirror. The last faint glimmer of luminosity had vanished from her feathers. Though still magnificent, her wings were merely snow white now, like the pinions of some arctic raptor.

"Look at yourself," she said. "You haven't bathed or changed your clothes since Axdan's funeral, nor slept or eaten either, I suspect. I'm certain you haven't resumed the duties of your various offices. I'll wager that you simply sit and brood in this chamber all day."

Sabul shrugged.

"If all this vengeance isn't healing you," Kotara persisted, "if it isn't helping you to take up the threads of your life, then what's the point of it? Why must we continue?"

"Because this isn't about me!" the sorcerer snapped. "What we're doing is for Axdan."

"Is this the memorial he would have chosen? A pile of corpses?"

He opened his mouth for a quick retort, then faltered. After several seconds he said, "May the gods pity me, I don't know. His was a kindly soul, that's for certain. He didn't even care to hawk or hunt."

"Did he belong to the Civic Guild?" she asked.

Sabul smiled ever so slightly. "No. He didn't have a wisp of magical ability, though it took him a long while to admit it. He wanted to follow in his big brother's footsteps."

"He was proud of you."

"Oh, yes. When I was a student, I had a bad habit of prattling on and on about all I was learning. The arcane powers and heavy responsibilities of my mystical tradition. The sanctity of the law, and how all must respect it lest civilization come unraveled. The rest of my kin learned to avoid me and my tedious soliloquies, but Axdan hung on every word." His mouth twisted.

"Which is a shame, isn't it? If I hadn't filled his head with such pompous nonsense, if I'd taught him that life is chaos and strife, perhaps he'd be alive today."

"But then he wouldn't have been the lad you loved," Kotara said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Besides, you could scarcely teach him what you didn't credit yourself. I think that, deep down, you still don't believe that any man, let alone a mage of the Civic Guild, has the right to defy the law to seek a private vengeance. It grieves you that you've broken your oath and perverted your art."

He sighed. "Perhaps."

"Then stop."

"Soon, I promise."

"Meaning when the house of Ilmiera is extinct? When I've killed every last one of them, even those innocent of Axdan's death or any other crime? By that time you'll be mad and damned."

"As I told you, it doesn't matter what happens to me. You have to understand, our parents died when Axdan was only a baby. I raised him, though of course the various relatives and servants helped. I was responsible for him, and in the end, I failed to protect him. But at least I can make his killers pay."

"No matter how many you slay, it won't bring him back," Kotara said. "Nor could all the blood in Zhalfir wash away your guilt. Rather, it-"

"Curse you!" he cried, striking her hand from his shoulder and surging to his feet. "How dare you strive to sway me from my purpose? You're only a slave. Begone until tomorrow evening."

Shaking with frustration, Kotara turned and moved away. She'd come so close to persuading him, but in the end, his bloody obsession had proved stronger than any argument she could muster. She folded her wings to slip out the window, then realized she didn't feel as if she were being compelled, to go.

Ever since the moment Sabul had summoned her, she'd borne the touch of his magic, like a collar of silk that would swell into an iron yoke if ever she defied him. Now, however, the sorcery had grown so attenuated that she could scarcely feel it at all.

She didn't understand how it could be so. Ordinarily a wizard's conjured agents were bound to him until he perished or chose to release them. But she did comprehend that fate had given her an opportunity to liberate herself permanently.

Sabul was lost in thought again, seemingly unaware that she had yet to depart. Stalking lightly as a cat, she tiptoed toward him. On the way, she lifted an ivory-hilted longsword from its rack. She trusted her own prowess. How could she not, after proving it over and over these past several nights? But she respected Sabul's sorcery as well, and a weapon would help ensure that she slew him instantly, denying him the chance to rattle off a spell. Besides, it would be somehow satisfying to dispatch him with one of his own tools.

As she glided closer, she felt the magic of the summoning gather itself and fumble at her like a palsied hand. Too late, she thought. A final step carried her into striking range. She raised the blade for a decapitating stroke, and then, even from the back, his appearance struck her anew.